


maybe all our lives have amounted to small miracles

by majesdane



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-21
Updated: 2009-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesdane/pseuds/majesdane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The beds now are smaller than they're used to.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe all our lives have amounted to small miracles

  
summer's gone, the cold's welcome. it gives me a loose-limbed confidence to know you'll be there.  
that i'm expected. there's a continuum. there's freedom. we can be kites and hold each other's strings.

no need to worry the wind will be too strong.

\-- _written on the body_ , jeanette winterson

 

 

The beds now are smaller than they're used to.

Sometimes Naomi wakes up to find herself being crushed up against the wall, with Emily's back pressed against her, and she has to gently nudge Emily until she's left with enough space to breathe comfortably. Only then does she sigh and wrap her arms around Emily, nuzzling against her shoulder before drifting back off to sleep.

Usually she'll wake to Emily's fingers dancing along the inside of her thighs, of kisses being trailed across her collarbone.

Hello, Naomi mumbles, without opening her eyes, and Emily shifts forward and kisses her full of the mouth,which somehow always manages to be lovely even with morning breath. (Or maybe because of it, because this doesn't happen quite as often as it used to.)

How long until you leave? Emily asks later, when she's made Naomi come twice already and they're both hot and sticky with sweat, the sheets clinging to their damp skin. Her forefinger traces circles around Naomi's knee; Naomi reaches over and brushes Emily's fringe away from her eyes before leaning over and kissing her forehead. Her lips come away salty; she licks at them, once.

Naomi rolls over onto her stomach and Emily props herself up onto an elbow, her hand moving up, fingers toying with a lock of Naomi's hair, which she's let grow out even longer over the past few months, a course of action which she knows Emily's not exactly pleased with. (Naomi makes a mental note to get it cut before she visits again).

I have to go tonight, Naomi tells her, with a sigh.

Emily pushes bottle blond hair to the side, bows her head and presses a kiss to the nape of Naomi's neck. We have time, then, she says, settling back down on the bed, one hand resting warm and heavy on Naomi's back.

Always, Naomi says, and moves to kiss her.

 

;;

 

Once a month, they get to see each other.

It usually feels like longer, though -- at least to Emily. The time never seems to fly by as quickly as it did when they were finishing up their last year in college. Back then, everything seemed to move too fast; she can scarcely recall any specific event from that year. What she can remember is mostly a collage of the most important things: making love in Naomi's bed until their mouths are dry and limbs are sore and aching, endless review sessions of exams, trying to help Katie get back to a place similar to where she used to be.

(Naomi'd almost broken up with her near the end of college, absolutely convinced that things weren't going to work out when they went to university, before Emily smothered her protests with a rough kiss and told her that she wouldn't give up without a fight.)

Sometimes, though, Emily has doubts.

Sometimes she wonders if Naomi was right, those two years back, if maybe university has changed both of them too much. At times, the back and forth of emails becomes tiresome and she doesn't respond for two, sometimes three days. And now and then she gets tired of talking every night on the phone and ends up just sending a text instead. But she does still miss Naomi, when they're apart, and at night the bed will feel much too large and it will hurt something awful.

And that must count for something, she thinks. And that it must be love, still.

(She's sure of it.)

 

;;

 

Emily's never said anything -- perhaps out of some secret fear that actually putting this kind of thinking into words would somehow ruin what they have -- but during Naomi's softer moments when they're apart, she imagines what it will be like when they both (hopefully, though most likely) graduate from uni next year. Some part of her imagines them both moving back in with their parents, returning to the way things used to be, with Emily spending most of her time in Naomi's house (and, subsequently, Naomi's bed).

But other times she thinks about London, and -- well, it's a little fucking scary to think of it, but -- she imagines it could actually be very nice, if she and Emily were able to scrounge up enough money to get a little flat together. They'd spent their last year of college practically living together anyway, Naomi thinks, and reasons that because of it they would probably be able to live together without being at each other's throats.

(She'd never mention it outright to Emily, of course, but one lazy Sunday afternoon in March, when they're lying in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, she presses a kiss to Emily's ear and says, It would be nice to be like this always, wouldn't it.

Emily opens her eyes and looks at her, hard, as if she's trying to decide whether or not Naomi's being serious. Finally, she says, Yes, it would be, and Naomi pulls her in for a kiss so that she can't say anything else.)

 

;;

 

She asks Katie, still stuck in Bristol, what she thinks of London.

You're not thinking of moving in with her, are you? Katie asks over the phone, trying to sound bored and failing miserably, an edge of disbelief (and, Emily thinks, surprised, almost fear) in her voice.

Well, actually, Emily starts, flustered, because she hadn't ever really given it any proper thought, her and Naomi moving in together. I-I think it's a possibility, she says at last, the heavy silence on the other end of the phone anything but comforting. I mean, I haven't discussed it with her or anything, but I think maybe -- well, it'd be good for me, I think. It _has_ been good, being away from Mum and Dad and Bristol and all that. I don't want things to have to go back to the way they were.

Katie's quiet for a long time.

What about me? she finally says, and Emily feels a sharp pang of guilt, because truth be told, she'd never thought to factor Katie and Katie's feelings into the equation. Never once stopped to consider where Katie would fall in her (perhaps somewhat) grand ideas.

Come to London with me, then, she says, trying as best as she can to sound cheerful, like it's something she actually _wants_.

No thanks, Katie snorts, and hangs up.

 

;;

 

Would you stay, Emily asks, as Naomi's fingers run up and down the length of her arms. If I asked you to stay, would you?

Naomi kisses her in lieu of an answer.

 

;;

 

Strawberries.

In the shower, Naomi's moves forward and covers Emily's breasts with her palms; Emily's hands settle on Naomi's hips, nails digging in slightly. Her hair smells like strawberries when Naomi kisses her, the scent of the shampoo almost strong enough to make her swoon.

(Emily's hands steady her, hold her in place.)

I love you, Naomi murmurs in Emily's ear, while the water falls around them like warm, heavy rain, and Emily's hands move up, her fingers tangling in Naomi's wet -- shorter -- hair. Naomi kisses Emily's neck, water dripping off her nose and lips, and Emily sighs, falling against her.

I know, Emily says. I know.


End file.
